Eyes
by AliasCWN
Summary: Eyes are good for watching if you keep them open and you stay alert. Eyes are good for hunting, better if you are the hunter and not the hunted. Eyes can frighten, or they can calm, They are the windows to the soul.


**Eyes**

By:AliasCWN

The yellow eyes watched his every move. Jack Moffitt tried to lean away from the jackal sitting in the cage in front of him. Thinking that it would intimidate him, the base commander had had the beast brought in and placed in front of his chair.

The wild animal had snapped and snarled at the soldiers carrying the cage. Moffitt had noticed how they had made sure to keep their fingers well clear of any openings.

Laughing, the base commander had teased the animal until it attacked the bars of the cage. "My pet seems especially hungry today Sergeant. Maybe I will allow you to feed him later."

The ropes bit into his arms as he hung sideways in the chair. Moffitt forced his swollen eyes open, expecting to see his interrogators standing there watching him. To his surprise and relief, he was alone, even the jackal was gone. Twisting to look around the room, he tried to find something to aid in his escape.

The Rat Patrol had been attacking another convoy when a shell had hit near his jeep. Shrapnel had peppered his arm and shoulder with tiny bits of metal. He had fallen out and the others had been driven away before they could reach him. Lucky for him, the wounds were painful but not life threatening, at least not if they were treated. Unlucky for him, the German officer who had captured him didn't seem inclined to worry about them.

Moffitt had endured the slaps and punches stoically, giving only his name, rank, and service number. As expected, the officer had been less than pleased. Moffitt had passed out several times, always awakening to the Commander waiting to continue. For some reason, this time was different, he was alone in the room; still tied, but alone. He couldn't even hear any guards outside in the hall. There could be someone out there, standing quietly, but that was outside; he decided to work on getting free.

The ropes on his wrists had been pulled and twisted as he was slapped and punched. He could move them a bit since the rope had stretched. Twisting his right hand, he pulled at the bindings, tearing the skin in the process. Blood began to seep from the abrasions, coating the rope. He willed it to spread faster. When the rope was coated, he pulled again, using the wet blood to lubricate his wrist and hand. It cost him some skin on his hand but the appendage slid free with a jerk. The sudden release sent shock waves through his shoulder. The room spun crazily until he closed his eyes. Giving it a minute to stop spinning, he flexed the fingers on his right hand, restoring the circulation. When the fingers once more obeyed his commands, he reached around to free the left hand. Then he wiggled and twisted until the ropes around his body slid lower; now the knots could be pulled around to the front where he could reach them.

As he frantically worked on the ropes he kept his ears tuned to the sounds outside of the room. So far there didn't seem to be anyone nearby; all the sounds he heard came from outside of the building.

When the ropes parted and fell from his arms he had to grab the chair to keep from falling. His left arm was useless, hanging from his shoulder as dead weight. Sitting quietly in the chair, he fought the vertigo, needing to get to his feet. Staggering to the window, he leaned against the wall next to it and peered out. The activity outside was chaotic as men rushed around a long line of trucks parked in the compound. Men on stretchers were being carried away with medics scurrying by their sides. Moffitt took a closer look at the trucks and smiled. There were 50 caliber bullet holes all along their sides. The damage confirmed that the others had not only survived the earlier attack but they were still in the area.

He heard the base commander ordering patrols out to run down the other 'rats' with instructions not to return until they were successful. There was a renewed sense of urgency as the patrols began to organize and head out.

Moffitt made his way to the door, deciding it was best to leave before the commander returned. He eased the door open to find the hall empty. He could hear two soldiers talking further down the hall; perhaps his guard visiting with a friend while the commander was preoccupied. Heading the other way, an empty office offered him an avenue of escape. The window facing the rear of the building opened easily, even one handed. He climbed over the sill, taking the time to close the window behind him. He used the wall for support as he moved toward the next building. There was a gap between the buildings, giving him a moment of trepidation as he stumbled across the opening. The next building didn't have any windows along the back, allowing him to half-stumble, half-run its length. As he was preparing to dash to the next building, he spotted a patrol car sitting by itself around the corner. Taking a chance, he ran for it.

He made it safely to the patrol car and slid behind the wheel. With a quick prayer to what others called 'fate', he started the engine. It rattled to life and idled roughly, not exactly the sound he wanted to hear, but he would take it. Glancing around to see if anyone was paying any attention, he shifted the car into gear and eased it around the building. No one spared him a glance as he drove down the street away from the hub of the activity. His destination was a small, little used gate that from earlier observation he knew only boasted one guard. If his luck held, he might be able to barrel his way through. Ducking low behind the wheel, he hoped to hide his tell-tale uniform until the last possible moment. If he could forestall any alarm until he was through the gate, he stood a chance of outrunning his pursuit. Little did he know that every patrol car on the base had been sent after the others and his only pursuit would be the slower moving halftracks.

The guard came into view, his eyes turned toward the center of the base where the convoy was parked. As the car Moffitt was driving approached he reluctantly turned his attention back to his duties. He eyed the car with bored eyes, noting the single occupant. Suddenly his eyes widened in surprise as he spotted the enemy uniform. He raised his rifle to yell 'halt' when the vehicle engine roared and the car rushed toward him. Jumping out of the way, he stumbled and fell to the ground. Landing on his elbow, he lost his grip on his weapon. He made a grab and pulled it toward him as he rolled to his feet. Opening his mouth, he shouted the alarm as he fired at the retreating patrol car. Eyes wide, he watched as it continued to flee into the distance.

More soldiers ran to the gate and fired at the fast moving vehicle. Moffitt kept his head low, ducking more that steering until he was out of range of the rifles. Once the bullets no longer screamed overhead he pulled himself up into a sitting position and glanced into his rear view mirror. The mirror had a hole in the center where a bullet had hit it, leaving a spider web of cracks. He couldn't see any pursuit yet but he knew they were coming. The eyes looking back at him were only slits in a black and blue background.

The engine in the car sputtered and he glanced at the fuel gauge. He had plenty of fuel; it could only be a problem with the engine. Glancing behind him again, he began to actually plan the next step of his escape.

He'd heard the commander send patrols after the others. They would have problems of their own so he wouldn't be able to count on them. He knew he'd have to use all of his knowledge of the desert to get out of this one. The others would have no way of knowing that he had escaped, or which way he had gone. Pulling up a mental map, he plotted his next move.

The patrol car sputtered and bucked, jerking along as he fought the rough trail. He had headed for the mountains, hoping to lose himself among the valleys and canyons. The trail he was on was narrow, barely wide enough for the patrol car. His plan was to drive as far as it would go, strip it of anything that could be used for survival, and jam it across the trail to block the path of the halftracks that he knew followed him. It wasn't the best plan, but it was all he had at the moment. He was counting on the rapidly setting sun to give him cover and time to get away. Perhaps the Germans would lose him in the dark.

A final lurch and the car stopped, not across the trail, but at least in the middle of it. It wouldn't stop the halftracks but moving it would slow them down a bit. The trail was too narrow to go around; they would have to move it. The rocky ledges on both sides made it a likely spot to leave the car, especially since the choice had already been made for him.

Climbing out, he quickly searched it for items to help him survive. The pickings were pretty slim. He found a small medical kit with half of the contents missing, a blanket, a knife with a broken blade, and a five gallon can of water. He looked at the water longingly, wishing that he had the strength to carry it with him. At present all he could manage was to tip it over and catch a palm full of water as it spilled out. Taking the rest of his supplies, he headed for the rocks to hide his trail.

Sweat poured off of him, the precious moisture dripping onto the arid ground. He'd strapped his arm to his side with his belt so it wouldn't swing free when he walked. When he glanced back, he could still spot the occasional flash of movement as the Germans continued to pursue him, hunting his tracks.

He squinted up at the golden orb dropping lower in the sky and silently urged it to hurry. He had a blanket to shield him from the worst of the cold at night but the sun was taking its toll; he looked forward to the cold. Besides, once the sun went down and night fell, maybe he would be able to lose his pursuers in the dark. All he had to do was keep moving.

Moffitt awoke with a start. He meant to sit and rest for just a moment, but a glance at his watch told him that he had been asleep for over an hour. The sun had finally gone down, taking the heat with it; now his weakened body shivered with cold. Fumbling with the blanket, he wrapped it around his shoulders and stumbled to his feet.

Rocks shifted beneath his feet and he tripped over the edge of the blanket as it slid from his shoulders yet again. He was tempted to leave it behind but he needed the warmth that it provided. Dropping to his knees, he tried to force his exhausted mind to come up with a solution. As tired as he was, thinking was proving to be a difficult task. Feeling the broken knife in his belt, he pulled it out, ready to throw it away. With what was fast becoming a rare event, his mind had a sudden moment of clarity. Pulling the blanket from his shoulders, he went to work.

Folding the blanket in half one way, he laid it on the ground and folded it the other way, forming a square. Using his knee to hold it in place, he sawed a hole in the center with the broken blade. Sliding his head through the hole gave him a makeshift poncho that wouldn't slip off as he walked.

He proudly donned the poncho, content with his new found solution. He decided to keep the knife in case it came in handy again.

A sound behind him pushed him to keep moving. He thought that he had lost the German soldiers but the bright moon was making it more difficult than he had hoped. He pushed on, no longer planning ahead, now just going on sheer determination and instinct.

A cut in the valley allowed him to change course, taking him into a deep arroyo where the sides were too steep to climb. A flicker of movement above him revealed the presence of several dark shapes running along the top of the ridge above him. One of them crossed in front of a light colored rock, allowing him to identify them as German. Now he knew that the enemy was above him, either trying to cut him off or track him as he followed the deep fissures. Keeping close to the base of the walls, he tried to stay out of their sight as he hurried along, looking for a way out. He could almost feel their eyes searching for him.

Once the sun had set, the stars had come out, glittering brightly in the clear sky. As he stopped to rest, he leaned his head against a rock and looked up. Exhausted and ready to drop, he stared up at the stars and let his mind wander. He found himself looking for the different constellations. He remembered doing that with the others on occasion. Suddenly he felt closer to them; maybe they were even now staring at the same stars and thinking of him. He hoped that wherever they were they were not fighting for their lives.

The faint rattle of a rock drew his attention back to his present situation. The sound behind him told him that his pursuers were closing in. They had kept pace with him for the last hour, neither gaining nor falling behind. As he listened he heard rocks being disturbed much closer than before.

Armed only with a broken knife, he didn't have much to fight with, or much energy left to expel. Still, he wouldn't allow them to take him back for more interrogation without a fight. Leaning down, he picked up a rock.

When his trackers caught up with him he gasped in shock. They weren't what he had expected. Five lean, hungry jackals rounded the rocks in the trail and fanned out to face him. Armed, or at least healthy, he would have laughed with relief at the discovery; but he was neither, and in his present condition, they were a deadly threat.

Five pair of yellow eyes watched him with feral intensity. Five sets of sharp yellow teeth were bared for him to see. They were an imposing sight, backed by tough, lean muscle, and a cunning intelligence. The jackals were pack animals that hunted in groups and usually chose weak or sick animals as their prey. The sergeant before them was both since his wounds were now infected and he was running a fever.

"Get back!" Moffitt hissed, afraid a yell would alert the Germans above. "Go away!"

The jackals retreated momentarily, eyeing him warily. Moffitt continued to swing his arms and hiss at them and they moved back, but then they got bold again. The sergeant backed away slowly, reaching behind him for some loose rocks. He began to throw them, hitting one of the jackals in the nose.

The jackal jumped away, growling ferociously. Its companions held back, waiting to see what Moffitt would do next. He grabbed another rock and threw it with all of his strength. This one thudded off of the side of another jackal as the other four dodged away. Amber eyes followed his every move.

Moffitt kept backing away, hugging the wall of the canyon, keeping the solid wall behind him. The walls were still high, fifteen to twenty feet, but they had widened as he walked, giving the animals plenty of room to move around him. He took a second to look at the mountain above him, not seeing any roads or trails that the Germans could drive on. Any pursuers would have to be on foot, but they were still a threat. He knew they were there, he'd seen them only a short time before, but there was no sign of them now. He turned his attention back to the jackals.

The animals were once again moving forward. They fanned out around him, feigning attacks whenever he looked away. Loose rocks were getting harder to find, he'd already thrown most of them, and the animals were not acting as skittish as they had been.

Struggling to stay on his feet, he considered for the first time the possibility that he might not make it out of the mountains. He might not even have to worry about the Germans; nature might seal his fate in the form of the yellow eyed predators.

He looked into the wild eyes of the jackals and shivered. Being torn apart by those jagged teeth was not something he wanted to contemplate. The boldest of the five charged at him. He jumped aside, his boot connected with the jackal's side, causing it to yelp in surprise. As he gathered his strength for another defense, the jackal gathered its courage for another attack. Cowardly by nature, only their numbers allowed them to be so bold against him. They crouched to launch another attack.

A shot rang out, the bullet hitting the rock next to the lead jackal. The animal wasn't hurt, just frightened, but not enough to drive it away from an easy meal.

A second shot hit the rocks behind the animals. They jumped, more nervous now. Moffitt shifted, trying to stay out of sight of the hidden marksman. The shots sounded like they were coming from above him, higher on the mountain.

Moffitt doubted that the Germans who were chasing him would shoot him; they would more than likely try to take him alive so that their commander could continue to question him. Still, they were shooting from a long distance, and accidents happened. The only light that they had was the light of the moon.

The third shot sent the jackals racing away as bits of rock pelted their hides.

Wheeling away from the now fleeing jackals, Moffitt stumbled along the arroyo, hugging the side to stay out of sight. He wanted to get as far away from the scene as possible, he knew that their next move would to be come down into the arroyo and look for him. Determined to give them a run for their money, he ran for all he was worth.

Deep in the arroyo, the moonlight didn't always reach the bottom. Now he stumbled in a deeper hole and fell forward. Landing on his knees, he grunted with pain.

He heard footsteps behind him, coming fast, and definitely human. The heavy tread of boots gained on him as he pushed himself to his feet. Using the arroyo walls for support, he staggered on.

Another deep hole in the dark part of the arroyo was his undoing. He didn't realize that it was there until his foot dropped out from under him. When it landed in the bottom of the hole, he was too slow in pulling it out. His toe caught as his momentum caught up with him. The ground rushed up to meet him as he fell, this time, head first. The moonlight blinked out as his head hit the rocks. The booted feet caught up to him.

He awakened to the sun shining bright and hot. To his surprise, he wasn't bound in any way. There was a tarp strung between the rocks to protect him from the sun's beams. Turning his head slightly, he tried to locate his captors.

"Hey Sarge, he's awake!"

The call came from a short distance away, but there was no mistaking the voice.

"Hitch?" Moffitt mumbled the name through cracked lips.

"How are you feeling Doc? You hit your head pretty hard."

"Where?"

"We're camped in a wadi. Sarge didn't want to move you until you woke up." The blond explained as he dropped to his knees. He held out a canteen for Moffitt to take a drink.

"How did you find me?"

"Once we shook our pursuit we started to circle back to the base. We figured that we would have to come break you out. Sarge had us hit a convoy to distract them while we checked out the base. You took off with the halftracks on your tail just as we got near the base." Hitch laughed. "Sarge said that that had to be you so we followed. We would have been there sooner but we had to avoid a couple of patrols that they had hunting for us. One of them cut our trail and we had to shake him. We found your tracks again and followed them until we found the abandoned car."

"The jackals?" The sergeant whispered softly.

"Yeah, we saw them. Tully drove them off while Troy and I hunted for a way down to you."

"That was Tully?"

"Yeah."

"I thought it was the Germans. I saw them earlier running along the top of the ridge." Moffitt explained slowly, pausing between words.

"We saw them too," Hitch nodded, "but they didn't see us until it was too late."

"Then that was you chasing me?"

"Troy and I." Hitch nodded.

"Why didn't you yell?"

"We didn't know if there were more Germans up there or not and we didn't want to announce our presence." Hitch looked up as someone else approached. "We had a hard time getting you back up to the jeeps. That arroyo was deep."

"I thought that I was….."

"Was what?" Troy demanded.

"Dead." Moffitt finished.

Troy knelt next to Hitch. "Tully said that he saw you fighting off the jackals and that he felt sorry for them. That's why he chased them off…so you wouldn't hurt them."

Moffitt looked up only to see Troy smiling in amusement. "I don't think they were too worried."

"They don't know you like we do." Troy asserted. "They were doomed and just didn't know it yet."

"While I thank you for the vote of confidence," Moffitt sighed, "but I'm glad that you didn't let it play out. I wasn't feeling all that confident myself."

"Here." Troy handed Moffitt the broth he had heated over their small fire. "Drink this, it will help. Then get some rest, we need to head back in a few hours."

The British sergeant carefully lifted the cup to his lips. He tested the heat before downing the entire contents. As he handed the cup back he felt a twinge in his shoulder. For the first time since he had opened his eyes, he remembered the wounds. He cautiously moved his arm, the bindings were snug, but not uncomfortably so. His arm was now bound to his side with bandages to keep it from moving. Concentrating on his shoulder, he recognized the effects of morphine. Deciding to take Troy's advice and rest before the morphine wore off, he leaned back on the blankets.

"I'll go relieve Tully on watch." He heard Hitch tell Troy.

Closing his eyes, he fell asleep before Tully could say hi. The next thing he knew, there was someone beside him, lifting his head gently.

"Here Doc, take a drink before we leave." Tully hovered over him, his eyes wide with concern. Placing a canteen near his sergeant's lips, Tully helped him to drink.

"Tully, thank you for chasing those jackals away." The sergeant looked into the familiar brown eyes and did his best to smile. He had managed to swallow several sips of water but his lips were cracked and dry despite the drink.

"No problem Doc, I just wish we could have gotten to you sooner."

"Your timing was perfect."

"Well I wouldn't say that, but at least we weren't too late," Tully gave him a mischievous grin, " another minute and some of those jackals would have been hurting." He recapped the canteen and helped Moffitt to his feet. "Let's go home Doc."

Moffitt nodded, more than willing to do just that.

Tully and Troy helped him into the passenger seat of his jeep. He leaned his head back as the jeep rocked, letting him know that Tully had taken his seat.

"You just rest Sarge; we'll take it easy if we can. Maybe you can get some rest on the way home."

Moffitt turned his head to meet the concerned eyes of his driver, grateful for the care. Before he closed his eyes he took a long moment to memorize the brown eyes of his driver. Those were the eyes that he wanted to see in his sleep, not the wild yellow ones of the jackals. He let a smile flash across his face as the jeep's motion rocked him to sleep.


End file.
